His Name is Bucky
by daisherz365
Summary: Within the first ten minutes of their introduction she throws a knife at him. He catches it, but it's enough to give him pause. He's looking for answers and she has few worth mentioning but everything else seems to confuse him. Not only about himself but why she isn't afraid. She told him, he wasn't the first killer to ever be close to her. He blinks, needing to know more. Post TWS
1. Chapter 1

HIS NAME IS BUCKY

Synopsis: When grabs her he expects her to scream or fight him or something that normal people do when they see him. He is a killer, and he knows that but it doesn't frighten her. She just treats him like a human being. When he asks her why? "You aren't the first man to attack me." He tries to leave it at that but discovering who he is sits on par with the small things that she slips out.

Emilie thinks he's better than he thinks he is even when he is pressing her about herself and what happened to her. He's something special. She figures it's a painful sacrifice when it comes to helping the lost soldier who is intensely calm for a man with so little memory and years of blood caked on his hands. He's helping her too, not that either of them realize that either.

_/_

_This started as a little thing and has expanded in ways that I can't count. That's what happens when I let a story sit for too long on my brain and then take my time to make something of it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this thing. _

_Much love,_

_Day_

* * *

**1/3**

Her first introduction to the WINTER SOLDIER or the man with the wild eyes as she had come to call him in her mind was the day she decided to take a run through the backstreets that were closest to her home and the safest to boot. It became clear when a gloved hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her down an alley that maybe not even the roads you called home were safe anymore.

She had glanced at the newspapers of course, and seen what covered the front page only to go to the comics section that was minimal for a Sunday. The front page was more often than not covered with travesty and while she was aware of the horror of it, she didn't wish to be involved in it too much. She liked to think everyone had a chance of having a normal life and having a happy one at that despite of what was plastering the newspaper and talked about daily on the television in the early mornings and the late nights. She preferred to try to find a safe balance between staying completely out of any trouble if she could.

Damn it if she hadn't had her fair share of troubles from the past.

However, when she looked into the eyes of the Winter Solider. The man that had a profile on her newspaper late that evening she had been scared for a brief moment before she settled and really looked at him. He wasn't all that scary in the dark. She had been the kind to feed strays that came to her door on a good day and even buy a sandwich for the man who sat on the intersection by the grocery story she frequented. Everything was cute until you really looked at it.

She could vaguely remember a small paragraph about the man with the codename. He was supposed to be avoidable at all cost due to his danger to civilians and the recent trouble with attacking one of the most noble and loved men in history; Captain America also known as Steve Rogers. She hadn't been able to avoid him it seemed, and the idea that he had tried to kill Cpt. Rogers weighed heavily on her mind. Yet, right now that was not her main concern. Something felt off about this and him.

When she looked at his intense eyes that glowed with the dim lighting of the street lamp that was posted a few feet away from them, and the clothes that barely fit him she only saw a man who was in panic and needed a hand.

So what did Emilie Timothy do? She reached for his arm even though it was pressing into her side casing her to the brick will. Pain was irrelevant when there was someone else in distress in her company, and he recoiled from her – only a small fraction, a millimeter at best.

He huffed, turning his head away from her before hearing her speak to him.

This was the first time he felt something that he as a human being was supposed to feel. Something that wasn't triggered by the agony of the pulses that scrambled his brain. It was foreign but he felt good because of it. It was strange, her voice that is. It was quiet, and curious and he felt stunned at not only the sound of it but what she asked him.

"Are you okay? Can I do anything for you?"

Like an ape in the wild that wasn't sure whether or not to trust a human, he moved closer to the woman with the honey auburn hair and leaned close until he was nose to nose to her. He looked for the signs of fear that he was used to, she smiled at him then and something clicked inside him.

"Okay."

Emilie wasn't sure what that meant so she asked him, "Um, what do you mean? Sorry you're not exactly clear."

She watched him swallow quickly as he looked at her. "You offered to do something for me. I need something." The word help wouldn't make it past his tongue. It seemed lost on him, he had done such much lately that it felt wrong to even ask this. If she asked him he would leave her here. There was something off about her, something he couldn't have seen when she passed the first time. However, he felt too centered right now to even try to put a name to what it could be. He watched her now, closely.

Emilie bit her lip as she surveyed him closely. She didn't stray from his face mostly because she didn't know if he would react well to her trying something that he didn't understand. She didn't say anything at first. This whole situation was pretty bizarre. An image flashed in her head that almost made her hesitate, she tossed it back into her head where it stayed. It wasn't the time to have a complete breakdown even if a dude with a metal arm was pressed against her. If her grandmother was still around she would have been calling her stupid for even thinking of helping someone who was seen as a menace to the world at large but sometimes the papers were wrong. In this case she hoped they were very wrong.

"My house is on the left side. It's better if we talk there. People aren't out exactly but…" The soldier seemed to understand what she was trying to say so he grabbed her arm as he backed up and turned her so that they could begin walking in the direction that she indicated. She knew this probably wasn't any better but he didn't seem to think so. She went along with it. It wasn't like she had a choice in the matter exactly. He probably had weapons on him.

His eyes were shifting everywhere as she led on. He was probably looking for targets and making sure that there weren't anyone noising around. Right now, there weren't many of them, she knew but she prayed that no one would be watching. She would hate for anyone to get harmed because she decided to help a guy out. Granted he was a guy who had pulled her into an alley when she was probably the first person to pass by him.

At some point as they headed down the path of Miller Avenue she had forcibly made him bring his hand down to the side so that it wasn't so obvious that he was holding on to her in that way. She didn't think it was the wisest decision to tell him that this wasn't the first time that she had been in a situation like this but he would find out fairly soon. Her mind had already begun to make a battle plan once they were in the safest environment of her house.

214 Miller Avenue was were a fairly large house that sat next to two hedged covered homes. Emilie found herself almost grateful for the two families that hadn't gotten around to clearing away their gardens. It was the fall so not that many people were itching to snip away hedges. She moved away from him slowly and reached for her key in her pocket which alarmed the man with the metallic arm for he was breathing down her neck as she made a grab for it. "It's just my key. I don't keep knives on me like some people." She huffed not daring to look at him though she could feel his eyes on her every move. She quickly unlocked the door before rushing inside with him close on her trail. She locked the door, exhaling deeply as she turned to stare at him. He was still standing near her as if she would do something stupid like make a run for it.

Where the hell would she go? This was the safest place to her. It was her home.

"Feel free to sit. I'm parched, I need water. Would you like some?" She smiled at him a little. His face was made of stone as she slid past him to walk towards her kitchen. He didn't follow her thankfully, as she got a bottle of water from her fridge. She made quick work of drinking some from it.

She looked around her kitchen a minute. It was clean apart from the dishes in the sink that she had planned to do when she got back from her late night run. Her eyes caught the knives that sat in the block and her plan from earlier came back to mind. She took another swig out of water bottle before grabbing one of the knives and hiding it in front of her but low enough that it wasn't visible to anyone that walked into the room as she posted against the island in the center of the room.

Emilie called out to him slowly, "Are you sure you don't want anything?" Her voice was calm though she felt the familiar sensation of nervousness settle in at being in the same similar situation as two, maybe three years ago. She breathed in and out as she heard his boots against the wooden floor as he followed the same path to the kitchen as she had.

As he appeared she threw the knife at him only for him to catch it as it nearly grazed his ear. He tilted his head to the side as if to ask her what she thought she was doing. He didn't say it though but he stepped closer to her and tossed the knife back at her making a similar motion, except it made its mark as it slid across her ear, taking strands of her hair in the process and landing at the wall behind her under one of the cabinets.

He watched as she touched her ear, looking at the red ooze of blood that began to drip slowly from the shell of her ear. She turned away from him as he moved around the island and towards her again. She ignored the tightening of her chest as she made a grab for one of the towels on the handle of the oven.

"Are you one of them?"

His voice had an edge to it. He bite ever word as he enunciated it perfectly, trying to make sure that she understood him. She didn't like it but she didn't answer him. She wasn't sure what he was talking about. She peered at him trying to gauge whether or not she should try to leave the room and risk him coming after her or if she even had to do that at all. His hands were curled at his side. He looked tense and more so furious at her.

"What do you mean? One of who?"

"You threw a knife at me. You must have a reason. Are you HYDRA? They can blend in with anyone who's to say they haven't used civilians as well."

_HYDRA_

She had heard that name before. She shut her eyes trying to pinpoint where she had heard it before. It wasn't very helpful, she couldn't think with him so close to her. He didn't scare her exactly but he gave off this vibe when he was angry. She had known him for only ten minutes but she knew that was probably long enough for her.

"No. I've heard that name before but no. I'm ordinary. I needed to see something."

"What?" He muttered.

She didn't know if it was the confusion in his voice that made her look at him or if it was the idea that he could probably kill her in two seconds flat that made her want to look at him. "You're not the first man to attack me. I wanted to see how fast you were." That was all the information she felt like sharing, she walked out of the room.

-x-

He didn't know what it was about the woman but hearing her tell him that she had been attacked before by someone who wasn't an assassin (at least he figured that) made him feel odd. He had picked her out of the stragglers who were still out so late on the streets because she was on her own. She had also been running so if he needed her to get out of a bad situation she at least had a chance. He didn't know if he would need to dispose of her in the long haul. A part of him hoped not. There were already a long list of bodies in various points in time that he couldn't exactly remember that were already on his hands. One more wouldn't hurt but he also knew that wasn't true. He was searching for something.

He honestly didn't know what he could get out of her. She had offered to aid him but then she turned around and tried to throw a knife at his face. It was highly confusing to him. If this whole mess with the man in the stars and stripes wasn't enough of a hassle and the lack of memories of who he really was then she was another piece of it. It was just his luck that he had chosen her.

She did seem different than the other people he's had to deal with as the killer that he was. He had seen his fair share of men and women who had pleaded for their lives just as he was about to pull the trigger or slice their throats open with his knife but she was different. He didn't understand why she's done anything at all to help him, even if it was just taking him to her home.

He stayed in the kitchen for a few more moments before moving to the sitting room where she had left him at first. She was sitting on the couch with her head in her hand. She looked worse off than when he had taken to throwing the knife back at her. She should have ducked, he had given her at least a second to do so, yet here she was on the couch looking like she might have a break down or cry. Possibly both. He hoped for his sake that neither of those things happened.

He couldn't remember if he had even consoled a woman before in his past life as Bucky Barnes. He could barely remember the pieces of himself that were wholly considered to be good. A small flash entered into his head then of a cleaner version of himself with his arm around the man in blue who was much tinier, giving him words of sympathy. He looked at the woman again and saw her staring at him. She didn't look too bad anymore but she looked curious.

"What's your name?"

He didn't know if he should answer her at first.

"I rather not refer to you as what they have you listed as in the paper. The Winter Soldier." Her fingers on the left hand – the one that wasn't pressing to her ear with the towel used air quotes around his alias. "What should I call you?"

He folded his arms as he thought about it for a moment. He knew who was supposed to be. This James, but he didn't know if he could connect himself with it. "I'm not sure. I'm still trying to figure out the answer to that."

"You don't know who you really are outside of what the papers say?"

He shakes his head. "I haven't read them but I know who Steve Rogers thinks I am. Who I'm supposed to be."

He couldn't grasp why he was talking so much currently. She was a stranger, and he was a stranger to her but her eyes told him another story. She would listen to him. She would ask questions and he wanted to know why it was so easy for her to do that. Her ability to switch from breaking down to this other woman who filled the same shell as the one who stared at him with those eyes.

"Who is that?"

"His name is Bucky."

She takes the towel from her ear and looks down at the red that is covering the corner of the towel where she pressed it against her ear. He can't see what she's thinking. Her hair is forming a curtain of concealment from him.

He can see the way she swallows. Her body shakes as she slowly centers herself. He wonders if it's something connected to the name. Bucky. Did she know him? No. He rejects it immediately. He's been frozen so many times that this woman who doesn't even look a day over twenty five if that would remember who he had been or who he had become in the process. He had so little memories of time as either but he would hope he would remember her.

"Do you want to know who you are?" Her voice is quiet again, like back in the alley. He decides he should probably sit down so he sits ever so carefully on the other couch which is more like an overgrown chair. He settles down into it, and finds it a bit too comfortable but doesn't move to get up. He can hear the sigh release from his lips but he doesn't say anything at first.

She's the one watching him as he stares down at the silver arm and the flesh one that he has on his lap. He knows that she's just a stranger but something tells him that not only will she be able to help him even just a small fraction but that perhaps he can help her too. He doesn't know why he wants to, or how but it's just a small feeling he has. Perhaps it's who he's supposed to be peeking through all the bloodshed and mayhem. He has no idea but he's resolute in it.

He doesn't know if he can say anything else so he just nods. Yes. He wants to know.

"Okay." She tells him. "I'll see what I can do. I'm not exactly a genius or anything but I can try my best."

He grunts in appreciation. He tilts his head up and sees the way her face brightens a bit, she's trying not to smile.

She gets up though when she notices him staring. "You can take the couch. This house might look big but it's actually doesn't have too much space. Most of it is out back." She almost leaves him in the room but seems to think better of it. "I'm Emilie by the way."

"Emilie…" He tests it on his tongue, trying to memorize it as she makes to actually leave him this time. He watches her cut through a corridor between the kitchen and another room. He is tempted to follow her so he can have a proper look around but he stalls. She didn't give him much time to follow anyhow for she comes back with a stack of blankets and pillows. There are also clothes on top of the pile.

"In case you want to shower." She mumbles to him. She doesn't tell him that he has to but he feels like it would be a good idea anyway. He doesn't remember the last time he bathed himself. He recalls being hosed down a few dozen times. None of it on his own.

"I'm going to use my own in my room but if you need anything. The other bathroom is the first door on the right. There should be towels and soap in there. I'll make sure before I go." She ends as she turns back around and goes back the way she came. Something seems off about her but he ignores it as he stands and takes the clothes and follows where she went down the corridor to the first door as instructed. He's better with directions than anything else. Probably do to the fact that that's how he is programmed to deal with situations. Follow this and everything will be fine. She had left the thought open to him though. He had a choice now.

Emilie bumped into him as he found the door though. She was checking as she said she would. She looked shocked to see him so soon after but she slid out of his way anyhow and went further down the hall. He waited to hear the door close before entering the bathroom.

It was a small bathroom, but it had everything he needed. The towels were in the cabinet right behind the door and toilet was near the tub. He was quick about cleaning up. He gave his hair a thorough scrub and made sure he had given himself a good clean before drying off and getting dressed. It was more methodical than anything else but somehow the action of getting clean made him feel less tense.

He took a look in the mirror afterwards. He didn't know what he was expecting to see. The face of the man they called Bucky. He looked away, taking time to toss his towels in the bin by the door and taking his clothes with him. Like Emilie had hinted at he had been carrying weapons with him. He had used his bare hands to grab her but he was equipped with enough that he could take someone out if he had to. Maybe even everyone on this street, if necessary.

He made sure to wrap his clothes tightly as he made his way out of there and back into the front room where the couches were. He noticed she didn't have a television. Most people nowadays did.

Nowadays.

He shut his eyes for a moment, stilling himself. He sounded like an old man. In theory he supposed he had to be. Every time they took him out of the chill of the cyro-sleep he was faced with a different take on the world, and every time there was something different. Except now he was stuck here. He didn't want to go back. He felt tense and the rage building every time he thought of going back to the madness of HYDRA or SHIELD. He didn't know where he was supposed to go but he knew the first thing he needed to do was deal with himself and figure out what he could.

He had someone willing to help him now. He only hoped what he was looking for could be found.

He sighed, trying to rid the thought of failure from sticking with him. He had failed in the past couple days and that was still with him. He couldn't stand to think about what else he could fail at now. So, he took the blankets and pillow and built a wall around it and shut his eyes for the night. He didn't know the last time he rested properly.

He hadn't slept in days, he was aware of that.

It came easy now though and it was relieving.

-x-

Emilie wakes to the darkness and the silence of the early morning. It's 4am and she almost forgets about her house guest in the living room. She almost wants to forget the fact that she's harboring a fugitive (at least she thinks so) who is a master assassin with several weapons that he's probably holding right now. He could kill her, this is really the first time she really takes the time to think about it.

She realizes that it doesn't bother her. What happened a few years ago cemented her care for her life. Or the lack of caring for it. She moved because she was breathing not because she had a choice. She supposed that wasn't true. She managed to get herself out of it, didn't she?

No one had been looking for her, the only person who had been happy to see her was the woman who lived next door. Mrs. Littleton, an old widow with a sweet Labrador who had made a mad dash for her when she fell into the hedge on the right side where his master lived. All the lights on the street had come on that day.

She sighs now, closing her eyes and rolling over. There's the photo of her brother on her nightstand. She doesn't remember much of her parents but her brother is the one person who mattered. She hadn't heard from him in years. He used to send letters but the last one came right before the pain started. She stopped herself from thinking about him. It always made her sad.

She fingered the photo briefly before rolling back over and trying to calm the ache in her chest.

Emilie must have fallen asleep again for the next time she woke it was sunny and her alarm had gone off. It's Monday which means she's supposed to work. She slowly slipped out of bed and changes into normal clothes. She decides that she doesn't want to go in today. It will seem odd to everyone else but she needs a day to settle The Soldier.

She realizes that she doesn't think she would feel right leaving him here.

To her surprise he's sitting up when she passes by the corridor. He looks better than he looked last night. A good washing will do that, a voice told her. She doesn't smile at him and he doesn't say anything as she goes to the kitchen and puts the coffee on. She spreads out on the island as she waits for the coffee.

She's nearly pulling out her hair by the time she hears the nearly silent shuffle as he enters the room. "Coffee?" She asks as she stands up straight and turns back around to the cabinets and fishes out one cup, and then another when she hears his grunt. It's a weird reaction but she kind of almost smiles at that little noise of his.

They wait in silence but when the drip stops and the machine makes a little happy alert to let whoever is around know that it's okay to take the pot off, she moves quickly as if it's just like breathing.

Most mornings Emilie goes without coffee but today she feels that she needs it. Today feels like it's going to be worse for wear. She can just feel it. She almost blames the fact that she started thinking of Ethan so early on. She misses him, but tries not to let it take over what she is supposed to be doing for her guest.

She pours two cups before taking the creamer and sugar from the cabinet which is a little too high for her but she manages just fine. She thinks nothing of the fact that the man in her kitchen is taller and could have probably reached it just fine. He's posted to the entrance leaning casually against the door.

One arm folded across his abdomen as his other metal one hands to the side. He pushes himself off when she places his cup closer to him and takes a step back. She gestures to the sugar and other things that he could add to suit his taste but he simply takes the cup in his hands and tosses it all back.

It has to burn, she tries not to get too excited about that but he simply places the cup back in the place where she set it. She stares at it for a second as she adds a little sugar to hers and takes her first sip.

As she's relishing the warmth that is slow to start on her tongue and flow to the rest of her body he forms a question. It's nothing too out of the ordinary. "Don't you work?"

"'Course. I'm taking a day."

She expects him to take that as a final answer but he seems to want to dig deeper. Emilie just wants a few seconds to herself but she should have realized last night that that was only a wishful thought. He doesn't know her, nor does she know much about him. "Can you afford to do that?"

"Yes." She quips as she takes his cup and places it in the sink and goes for another cupful of her own.

He is silent for a few moments as she enjoys her second cup. He seems like a silent type of person so she isn't too bothered by the quiet, she is used it being on her own so much. "I'm sorry that I don't have breakfast for you. I'm not in the mood to cook exactly. Not in the mood to work either, but I did agree to help you." She shrugs. She hates these days. She longs for the quiet, the solitude of being on her own but there is something almost comforting about having someone there to keep an eye on her when it should be the other way around.

When she slips by him, she feels his stare linger a little more than it should. She doesn't look to see what look he carries now as she grabs her bag that is by the door on a hook. "I'll be a few hours. You're welcome to peruse anything that is in the fridge or watch the television."

Before she can think of anything else that he could possibly do, she ducks out.

Bucky hears the click as the lock clicks in place.

He was right to think that there was something off about Emilie. It's more than just a feeling, he saw it then in the kitchen.

He doesn't make it a habit of snooping into people's things but the whole suspicion thing is a new thing to him. He wouldn't have thought twice about anything he was told prior to being sent to kill Steve Rogers. It's just his luck that his apprehension is worse now than it had been months ago. He wants to know everything, even if it won't help.

He starts in the living room where he slept. He spends less time there as there isn't much to look through. Emilie has a wall that contains a small bookcase with vinyl records on it in a random order. He reads off a few of the titles but doesn't see anything of interest there as he looks at the paintings that sit on the walls above the bookcase.

Both of them are centered on the sea. He thinks their nice to look at but doesn't see anything particularly telling about them. It's possible that she picked them up because they were appeasing to the eyes. It wasn't that important so he moved down the corridor not looking back.

Emilie had left and she claimed that she wouldn't be coming back for a few hours. That was enough time for him to do what he needed to do then settle back down on the couch.

He came back out her room frustrated and more confused than he had been when he entered it. There was nothing of use there either. She either threw away everything that held any significance or didn't keep anything like that at all. He couldn't wrap his head around why.

She had a laptop sitting on the counter that he briefly thought about combing through. Most people put their lives on those but he didn't think that she did. If she didn't keep anything worth looking into in her house then she wouldn't trust a computer to save those mementos either.

There was that photo in her room though.

He backed track to it. It was a photo of a man, who was a few years older than her if he had to guess. He didn't think he was a lover, however. They shared a few significant features that had him leaning more to him being a sibling.

He decided to look more into the photograph and took it out of the frame that she had put it in. There was a year on it that was about ten years ago. There was also a name scribbled on it.

_Ethan, Summer of 2004_

He put the photo back in the frame and sat it back where he found it. He wasn't sure what he could do with that yet, but filed it away for now.

Bucky didn't know what to think of Emilie now. There wasn't much to go on on the surface. She seemed genuinely not afraid of him or completely bothered by the fact that he had a metal arm. However, there was something that he saw that reminded him of well, himself.

The sad disposition that was trying not to make seem like a big deal. He wasn't sure if this was just a mood swing of some kind, but he would watch out for it as long as he was entangling himself in her life. He would try to be in and out of it if he could help it.

A few hours turned into nearly eight.

The first thing she said when she stumbled into the house with what appeared to be a busted up lip and soaked clothes was, "Give me a minute. I need a minute." Before she dropped her bag by the door and rushed through the corridor and into her room.

-x-

It's cold. This is the first thing she feels when she awakes. It takes her longer than usual to want to move even though she knows where she is or why she's there in the first place. She also knows she's not alone. She's not as cold as she should be. There is something else covering her naked skin besides the fluffy towel she had around her middle before she was hit by the trauma again.

She doesn't know how to express to him what had happened or whether thanking him would be better.

Emilie opens her eyes anyways and looks over at him. He's sitting by the sink across from her. One leg bent up, his metal arm thrown over it as he looks at her.  
It takes her another moment to realize just how much of the arm she can see but it doesn't matter really right now. She takes a deep cleansing breath before closing her eyes for a few seconds as she speaks to him. "People think I'm crazy or ill but if I had to tell them that I had a fit in nothing more than a towel while in the company of a trained killer well, they'd still think I'm crazy." She was sitting by the end of her statement and then she was slipping through the door and towards her closet.  
He had come into her en suite when she took too long to come back.

Well, she decided he did want to know what she had found out about him and she couldn't let him wait much longer. So she was quick about pulling on a camisole, an old flannel that belonged to her brother and some denim shorts - all of which were the first decent items of clothes that she could find.

In turn she took a brush through her hair and then headed out to the front of the house which thankfully was where he decided he wanted to be while she was getting dressed.

Bucky could see how shaken up and tired she was but she still had a slight determined feeling to herself as she took her computer and sat at the wooden table that was wedged between the kitchen and the living room. He stood behind her as she booted it up and muttered, "This little drive holds everything I could find on you, The Winter Soldier, and your friend Cap." She waved the little stick in the air for a moment before sticking it in a port on her laptop.

He had been waiting for this all day but something made him want to wait to read about what she had found on him. Call it hesitation, but he had been concerned when he found her convulsing on the linoleum of her bathroom floor.

He had gone into a panic internally. He had never had to deal with a person who did something like that before. He didn't even know what it was exactly.

He moved the laptop away from her. Shutting it first before sliding it to further section of the table. "Hey!" She swiveled around to look at him, glaring partly with a frown on her face. The soldier was quick to follow her movement by caging her in with his arms on each side of the chair. "What the hell was that in your bathroom? It's not normal. I figured you'd be a fairly scared human but you have barely given me anything that read 'I'm fucking scared of you, you filthy assassin'. You said people think you're crazy. Why is that?" He spluttered out.

She swallowed but apart from that she was letting nothing show. "Why does that matter? It's not exactly relevant. I need to show you what I found. That is why you're-," he cut her off by turning her face back to him as she had started looking at her computer as if it would save her from his questions. From his pissed off spouted questions.

"I need to know everything. About you. About me. I cannot be in the dark about it anymore. I think I've had enough for about 70 years."

Emilie licked her lip as she looked at him. She reached for his hand that was still resting against her face. He moved it before she could touch it and she was speaking before he had could do anything to make her talk. He could he knew. He was still in her space. "You don't scare me because I've been around someone like you before but you're nothing like that man. He nearly killed me. You have had plenty of chances to kill me and maybe you will once I give you the information but I'm not afraid of dying. I've already been to hell already."

She can tell he doesn't quite know how to deal with that. He just stares her down another moment before moving back and walking over to where he pushed her laptop and sliding it back to her. He stays over there, turning his back to her. She opens up her laptop and begins opening up the files and arranging them on the screen. This isn't a StarkBook or whatever Tony Stark equivalent there is to her old Gateway but she manages to set it up nicely for him.

"One more thing before you get started..." She waits a minute, waiting for him to give her some kind of sign that he's listening. He gives her a gruff mumble that has no real meaning before she continues on. "What you saw back there is my mind's way of reminding me that I went through it and I still have scar tissue that hasn't healed yet."

His question surprises her. Not just because he's still talking to her but the way he sounds when he says it. "How long has it been since...?" He doesn't have to point out what. She suspects he would like to know what exactly, but she wouldn't even know where to get started on explaining to him how much pain and torture she had experienced.

"Three years next month." She ignores his eyes as they train back on her and she turns the computer so it's angled towards him. She gestures to him to have a go at it.

He takes a seat a few spaces away from her and takes the device closer to him and he just gazes at it. She had set it up so that all he had to do was scroll down the document to read everything that she found. There were hours of reading material.

She moved from where she was sitting in order to go fix her something to eat. She would fix him something too, not that he would be too worried about that when his focus was clearly on learning more about himself. The one thing the paper hadn't said, she had managed to make herself read the short columns that she could while transferring much of the information was how he had ended up losing his life story. They had labeled him as a dangerous man but little else was told.

She had read a few of the articles but had decided that anything else she could ask him later.

There was one thing that she did want to ask him however, "You speak Russian?"

The Soldier for his part was quick and muttered something at her from the table while she made sandwiches in the kitchen. It wasn't English that was clear. "What was that?" She peeked over from inside the kitchen.

He turned, his fingers that were on the keys to control how fast the information slid across the screen for him to read halted as he stared at her. "I said, 'What does this tell you?' Yes. I speak it." Then he turned back to the laptop and resumed reading.

She doesn't know why she asks this of him. Call it curiosity if you will. "Will you teach me some of it?"

He doesn't say anything until she sits a plate well in his reach. "Why?"

She circles back around to get water before sitting in the spot she had been in before. "I'll probably never use it but it couldn't hurt to know a little of another language. You find it useful, don't you?"

His shoulders raise as he shrugs. "I guess. I don't remember how I learned it." He grumbles before reaching for the sandwich that she had left for him. He takes a bite out of it. Stares at what it is, she takes the fact that he takes another bite that he likes it. It's nothing fancy, ham and cheese, tomato and lettuce on wheat with a splash of mayo. A few chips on the side. Not exactly healthy but filling if nothing else. She needs to go shopping on the next spare moment she has.

When he's done, he pushes the plate to the side. She grabs it as she did his coffee cup earlier and heads to the kitchen. She hears a delayed 'thanks' as she passes by him. It makes her smile a little.

The sound of the door jiggling a little makes her stop as she begins to wash the dishes. He's right behind her within a second. "Don't move." She feels the force of his metal hand as he carefully pushes her down onto the ground and then he's out of there. It's much gentler than she figured it would be. He's much more controlled than she thought he would be.

She doesn't know where he is, but she waits to see if whoever it is leaves or gives up. For the life of her she can't figure out who could be at the door. Then the lock unlatches and someone comes in. Her heart is beating in her throat at this point. For the briefest of moments she's wanting to make a dash for the knives in her block. She's good at using them on people who aren't The Winter Soldier, she thinks.

The sound of feet moving sways her attention from the knives before a familiar voice pans through the silence. "What are you doing on the floor? Did you forget that I was bringing the movie over?"

Emilie quickly gets to her feet and runs a hand through her hair as she tries not to look past Greg-comma-Jerry to see if she can find the man who had been so quick to protect her and then run away. She focuses long enough to apologize. "Sorry, it must have slipped my mind. I haven't been feeling all that well and I called in this morning." She lets out a controlled sigh and tries to seem defeated, it's not too hard to do with the way today has gone.

"Damn. I probably should have called. It did worry me not seeing you at work and all. Thought you were just flaking or something. No one actually likes coming in the first of the week." His short cropped hair shakes as he turns all the way around but stops. "We could do this another night, if you prefer?"

"I think that would be best." The half lie sort of spills out of her mouth. She doesn't know what she's doing but she knows that she has to get Jerry out of her house. It isn't clear if the Soldier is even still in here but she'd rather be safe than sorry. "I'm sorry about this again. It's just been a bad few days." Again, she isn't completely lying. Before the man with the metal arm grabbed her last night, there were the slew of days when she felt horrid for several different reasons. It was like the morning picked back up on that.

"It's fine. Give me a call in the morning and let me know how you're feeling."

"Okay." She sniffles, it isn't until then that she realizes just how watery her eyes has gotten. Her chest feels a little tight but she manages to keep it together long enough to hug Jerry at the door.

It shocks her into a staggering sway when she feels something sharp press against her side as Jerry embraces her. There is the sound of glass breaking but after that she blanks.

-x-

Emilie's laughter wasn't comforting to Bucky. He had stayed hidden in her room for only half a minute as they talked but he hadn't felt comfortable in there. In the same way that he didn't feel okay with it when she was changing earlier after her episode in the bathroom. He was careful as he slipped near entrance of the hallway where he could see them closely.

He had noticed the small object in this Jerry's hand right before he embraced her but he was farther away than he needed to be when he plunged it into her skin. He is quick enough to make sure that there isn't too much damage done to her body even when she hits the glass table that is wedged in between the large chair that he liked entirely too much and the other couch that he realized she preferred to sit on. He laid her at an angle that was comfortable before Jerry realized that there was someone else in the room.

He kicked him in the shin as Jerry started to open the door. Bucky had already pulled the knife that he had stowed away in the waist of his pants early on and charging at him. "Who the hell are you?" Jerry asked, eyes wide as he saw the shape of the knife that he had pressed close to his clavicle. The syringe had been dropped when Jerry had let go of Emilie.

Instead of answering him, he decided to just knock him out with a maneuver that he rarely got to use. A part of him hissed because he hadn't coated the floor with the man's blood.

He was supposed to be Emilie's friend. At least that's what it appeared for a brief moment. Whoever this Jerry was, Emilie couldn't be allowed to trust him anymore. He quickly dragged him over to one of the chairs in the room, and finding something to lock him in place before heading back to where the unconscious home owner was. She had definitely harmed herself in some way when she fell back.

He wasn't great at medicine or patch work but he made a judgment call fairly quickly when he realized just how much blood was on the floor and his hands as he checked on her head and the puncture wound that was a little shy of her hip. He knew that it would be weird to explain that he had even touch her in any way that involved lifting up clothes but he had a priority to make sure she didn't die.

It was something he had never experienced before. The want to help someone. He had the urge to kill people (by order and demand). He knew he could have left her there but he had already handled her and if the cops got involved they would find out that he was there. There were already people after him and if she had read even an ounce of the part of the documents that entailed his involvement with the murders that he had committed he didn't understand why she had been so willing to continue to help him.

He ignored the thought for now, as he hoisted her up into his arms and opened the front door. She couldn't stay here. He couldn't do much else here either. He had managed to grab her keys and the flash drive with all his information on it before leaving.

It shouldn't have surprised him that he knew how to drive. At some point, he had to have learned. It was automatic and this tiny part of him was a little shaky as he moved them out of the neighborhood. He had made a note of all the facilities that were important in the D.C. area when he had been searching for an easy way in and out of places.

There was only one place he wanted to go and he would have to enforce some of his training to get inside.

It was easier than he thought it would be as long as he kept his head down and told a few lies.

"_Are you related to her?"_

"_A very distant cousin."_

"_Does she have any family?"_

"_None that she bothers to keep in contact with apart from myself."_

"_We will let you know when you can see her."_

He had nodded, pretended to be distraught by the blood on his hands. Her blood. Then they had let him borrow some clothes from the staff supply. He kept his smiles into polite territory even though he was feeling a little bit more than mischievous. Appearances were everything weren't they?

When they called him back to go see her in recovery Emilie was still asleep as he expected. He had made a small trip back to her house for a small bag of things that held her necessities in it and to have a talk with Jerry Greg as he learned was his full name. He was still alive when he left him a few blocks over.

He was usually less controlled when it came to his marks. He couldn't afford to be reckless. As a rule for Emilie's sake he kept the bulk of it out of her house. It looked just like it did when they entered it minus the dishes and a broken chair. She'd be able to go back to it in a few days when she was better.

He had gotten enough out of him to be useful for whatever Emilie decided she wanted to do. He decided to try to distance himself from her. He only known her a day and he had already nearly gotten her in some deep shit. Greg Jerry, Jerry Greg – whatever the hell the guy's name was as he suspected someone who had been approached about finding out information from Emilie about his whereabouts. He had done it for money, of course.

He couldn't have done it for love or something cliché like that. Sometimes he hated people for reasons that didn't involve dossiers or illegal acts but this was fairly close to that if he had to guess. It did remind him that he was about to give the woman a reason to actually be scared of him. He also seemed to realize that she might find a way to twist it into a positive light. There was something the guy had said just before he dragged him out of the house that made him think that Emilie had a different perspective on things than normal people were supposed to view things.

"_She kind of gives you this look sometimes that make you want to protect her from getting treated wrong again. You just met her but she slips up sometimes and you just know that she's been in some shit that she hasn't properly dealt with. Fucks her up. You've got that look too but it's different. You're not Emilie_."

It made him think very briefly about why he was going so far to protect someone he only knew for 24 hours.

He sat with her and was there when she woke up all of six times. Each time she was spluttering about something very difficult for him to stomach. The last time featured her waking up choking on air. He moved to focus her this time. All the other five times he was quiet as he listen to her until she rolled back over and slept. It was almost time for him to leave. Visiting hours only lasted so long but he was going to stay. He knew a way.

He used his right hand to touch her cheek. "Hey." He sighed.

She looked like she was crying. She wasn't but her eyes were really watery and she took in shallow breaths as she looked around a bit before she looked at him. "Where am I?" She asked quietly. There was this look about her that made him think about what Jerry had said, and what she had been spouted out to him.

"The hospital." He cleared his throat, unsure how to begin to start discussing what she had relayed to him in her half drugged self.

He moved away from her slightly as she tried to sit up but he pushed her back down. "No. Don't move."

His words seem to trigger something in her. "Shit. Jerry was there. What happened to Jerry?"

Bucky sat back a second. He knew he had to tell her what he had done but perhaps he should tell her slowly. "He sedated you. You hit your head on the table, lost a bit of blood. Does your head hurt?"

His throat was starting to hurt from how much talking he was doing. He didn't talk. Not The Soldier. He wanted to put her worries to the side for a moment. This wasn't something he was comfortable with doing at all.

"Not as much as the rest of my body. Thanks for making me stay put." She looked around to the other side of the room for a moment as if thinking there was something there before turning back to Bucky. "I feel like crap."

He nodded. "A very heavy sedative. High grade military kind of stuff, he was supplied with it."

"Who could give that to him? We do temp work. We don't have access to that kind of stuff." She closed her eyes for a moment and he decided that she was either struggling with staying awake or was in pain. Or it could have been something mentally going on that dealt with how she had woken up.

He decided to leave it for now. He needed to explain a few things to her.

"Someone wanted him to find information from you. I suspect it was about my whereabouts. The vial that he used was something I've seen before."

"With HYDRA?" She rolled her head back over in his direction blinking rapidly to try to focus on what he was saying.

"Or SHIELD." He nodded.

"Do you hate them too? I get why HYDRA…" She stopped for a full second, shutting her eyes again and he watched her swallow slowly. "SHIELD wasn't bad before, or they weren't supposed to be."

He was really distracted by her reactions. It wasn't the subject matter at all. So, he made it the subject. "You said some things."

"When?" She nearly bolted right up as she jerkily answered. He folded his arms as he leaned against the wall that was closest to where she was laying.

"You woke up a few times."

"Don't remember. It wasn't important." He could see the way she was starting to shrink up and shut down. It gave him this small flash of a memory. A woman who he mirrored in a way. The quiet smile that she gave a younger version of him as the drip in a hospital room that was much smaller than the one he was sitting in currently. She was in pain but she smiled and reassured him that all would be well.

He tried to keep the flinch out of Emilie's line of sight. He itched to scratch at his head. It made him feel a little fuzzy but he pushed through it to negate her claim. "This Luke person…" He began only for her to stare at him with this look on her face. This was the look Jerry was referring to. It was full of fear, and hate and death. It was pathetic and all-consuming and desperate for him to stop. Stop probing into matters that didn't concern him.

His tongue glossed over his bottom lip as he waited.

"Please. Stop." Her words were slow and quiet in a slight slur that all came from the drugs that she had been sedated with. She wasn't bad off but there had been blood and they had been thorough. He had checked over her head while she was unconscious. He didn't trust them. He didn't trust anyone really.

"What did he do to you?" He grunted as he caught her eyes again.

Emilie realized that it wasn't asked in a sympathetic tone. The Soldier was anything but sympathetic to anyone. He had a list of things that he had endured that he could recollect that was far worse than anything than anyone else had ever experienced. He did feel a little shot of something in his chest as he watched as she pulled at her hair as she sat with her legs propped up close to her chest. She was so quiet that she frightened him.

It was a different kind of fear. She was in pain but it wasn't anything that could be easily fixed. Especially not by him. He didn't even know what he was doing here. Why he was trying to be as close to a friend as he could to Emilie. He didn't know where the instant need to comfort came from.

Was that Bucky's natural reaction to people who he cared for being in turmoil? He had a flash drive in his pocket that contained more information on who that man was and who the person he was as the Soldier but it would never tell him how to handle things like this. It would never make it easier for him to stand idly by and not be able to be sure how to proceed with the emotions. He had been turned off for decades.

He was screwed up and he knew he was the last person to need to try to offer advice. So he didn't even try but he kept his eye on her as she trembled and shook and wept before finding a slight amount composure and answering his question. It was quicker than he thought it should be, the swift transition from broken to okay. She was easy to confide in a man who knew little about himself and that was probably the tell-tale of why he was here.

"I don't know anymore."

She had looked at him as she said it. Eyes swollen and all, with that look on her face that was supposed to make him feel something. Against his better judgment he did feel something. Something earth shattering and numbing that he couldn't put an emotion to. It was just there just as he was looking in from the outside.

He offered no words of apologies for what she had endured, or what she still held onto from whatever had happened to her – she had given him small details, as he grabbed the chair that was against the wall. He had been sitting in it for a couple of hours. He turned it around so the back of it was facing the bed as he drew it closer to the side of the bed and sat on it with his arms thrown across the back as he sat with her.

If he were to sleep he knew that he would hear her cries. They reminded him of something from far away.

For now he wouldn't think. He would focus on the details of what she would share with him. He was offering the chance.

"Remember what I said. I don't want to be in the dark anymore."

Emilie watched him as she wiped her face and tried to regain some of her dignity after having a complete breakdown just from Bucky speaking a name. She took a few breaths as she weighed her choices. He wasn't going to get up and leave her currently, she realized. He wanted to know her pain for some reason. She didn't think they were linked in any fashion. That's not what this was about and she couldn't bring herself to think that he was doing this out of the decency of his heart.

The Soldier, the one that tried to kill Steve Rogers and brought down a large security operation under orders was at the forefront but she think she could see someone else peeking through.

He was doing more than he was trained to do. He had protected her, he got her to a safe place when he weighed his own options and chose to get her out of it alive with minimal scarring. He could have left her but he didn't. She would take that as a small gift.

She owed him.

"Okay," She croaked. She rocked a little in the bed as she tucked her legs closer to her body. "I want something in return."

He was silent but he was listening, his eyes flashed for just a second. She could see the glint of his metal arm in contrast with the scrubs he was wearing. They looked odd on him but she supposed her brother's clothes had gotten bloodied when he had carried her.

"You have to tell me what happened to Jerry. I know I shouldn't care, he was going to torture me I guess."

She waited. There was a few solid moments of silence before he broke it with his one word answer. "Fine."


	2. Chapter 2

HIS NAME IS BUCKY

_Here's the second half. Hope you're liking it. The third part is going to be a doozy ;) _

_much love,_

_day_

* * *

**2/3**

Bucky had disappeared before she could even begin telling him anything. She didn't understand at first why. He had even moved the chair back to its place against the wall. He hadn't gone anywhere exactly, just into the only other room that was within her room. The bathroom that had a lock. She thought at first he really had to use the bathroom but then the door into her room opened and a nurse came in. Then it hit her, it was past visiting hours and he had been trying to stay with her when he wasn't supposed to be there.

She kept her focus on the nurse who checked her vitals one last time and gave her two ibuprofen for her head before leaving her to rest for the night. She had kept it together up until the point it was completely dark in and outside of the room. She hadn't even heard him at first until he made a noise of clearing his throat to let her know he was back beside her.

Emilie tried not to grin. He was sharp and would more than likely notice it. So, she began talking quietly just in case there were guards or something milling around. She was supposed to be asleep or trying to sleep. She didn't think she would be able to even if she didn't have a bodyguard of sorts in her presence.

"Its weird thinking that I was grabbed close to the same manner as you grabbed me last night. He was quick and rough and full of himself even in the first couple days when I was locked away starving and having no idea how I could possibly get myself in a situation of first being kidnapped. I was just getting off of work. I had only been working as a temp for a couple months and I was doing okay. I was stable enough financially that I wasn't too worried then about much. Then well I was taken and I could probably tell you specifics about the things that he did but it wouldn't really matter. He tortured me along with two other girls who were much younger than me. He'd take turns with who he messed with. For two weeks I didn't even see him but he had friends who would bring food in for us to eat. It wasn't anything special but I learned early not to eat any of it.

It was drugged as was the water that was supposed to help keep us hydrated. It was like prep for the hard months that I was going to endure when he killed the first girl. She was only maybe sixteen if not younger. She was from out of town and it was still horrible. He made us watch her die after he had beat her so badly.

Eventually I was on my own." She sighed. Her hands covering her face for a moment as she tried to will herself to make it through the next part. This was the worst of it and he had to know that. "It's nearly the normal story of how someone gets through being kidnapped and torture except I don't think most people plan to get out in the way that I did. I learned how useful those instruments he used on me were when he wasn't using them on me. He was distracted actually at the time. I had been preparing myself for a little while. I honed on his behavior and little tics that would give me a little time to get my weapon of choice which isn't even all that lethal. It was just a little blade – or of those surgical tools. Not a scalpel I can't remember what it was but when he got close enough I drove into his side. He was pissed and tried to get it from me even when he was bleeding. I think that's when I got mad. Not in the 'I'm angry because Luke had taken a lot from me' but in the way that I just wanted to end this and try to find a way out of this. Alive.

So I just kept at it but it wasn't easy. He was stronger and quicker but I had a lot of pent up exertion to get out and he eventually couldn't move. Then I got out of there. Someone found me about two acres away. He lived in the country with fields and all that. Typical spot for someone who wants to keep things private. I was huddled in a little ball and there was so much blood that they nearly put me in a psych ward until I mentioned the house and what I had done. I couldn't say what happened for a long time and I don't go talking about it." She stops for a second, looking over in Bucky's direction.

"I told you that they think I'm mad in the head a little bit. It's because the only thing people know or like to connect my time in that place was that I killed a man. There were photos leaked from the crime scene. Such horrible things. I couldn't get away from it for a long time. I couldn't go outside because there was such backlash from it. Not because it was out of self-defense but because I wasn't supposed to be like that. I kept to myself long before there was Luke but this was so much worse. There was so much coverage of it. It was screwed and complicated and dark but I did what I had to do, but it's not something easy to forget or let go of. Those are two years I can't get back but it happened. That's it, I guess." Emilie finished quietly.

Bucky sat there as she finished it and he knew there were things that she didn't say. Things she couldn't possibly say when she was awake but she had when she was drowsy and not all there before. He wouldn't tell her that she had shared specifics. He kept that locked somewhere to assess later.

This hadn't been easy for her. Sharing this piece of her life. It was something that a part of her seemed to swat away as if it was just like those other stories that people had lived but with that there was something distressing about it. It changed her way of viewing things and he couldn't figure out why completely yet. He decided not to press it yet, she had given him a foot. They could walk the mile later if necessary.

"Jerry died by my hands." He started after a long pause. He tilted his head so that she could see his face in the small light from the window. He wanted her to see this part of him. "I tortured him like Luke tortured you but in a more visceral way that was easy. I had my reason for doing so. There are no orders anymore on my side but it felt better to get rid of him than for him to do more damage to either one of us. He isn't that important. He did it for the money. Money that he didn't need."

"How do you know?" She asked him.

"His bank statement that he had tucked in his wallet for some reason. He had over five thousand dollars in his savings." He watched as her eyes widened fractionally and the way she swallowed. "He was willing to toss you over to be dissected like a lab rat just for a measly two thousand."

"You think they would have dissected me?" Her voice changed a little as fear crept in.

"In some way. Yes. These are people who want to drag me back to do more 'good work'. If they knew that you knew even a fraction about me or what I am planning to do then they would take everything from you even if it's small. It's no comparison to what happened to you while in Luke's company."

Emilie was quiet for a second as she thought about what he said. She was grateful he hadn't told her any details about his slaughtering a man she thought was her friend. One of her only friends, really. It did confuse her why he did it. She knew what he told her was one of the reasons. He was in no way trying to get in her good graces. She figured it was an impulse for him to just get rid of anyone who stood in his way for his mission.

It bothered her a little but she still didn't think he was a horrible person. It was about survival and she seemed to factor into that.

"What do you want to do next?" She asked him.

He looked confused for about half a second as he blinked at her. He shifted slightly in his seat and drew back so that he was out of her immediate line of sight. "You are not obligated to help me."

"Who else is itching to help a trained killer these days? Regardless, you aren't bothering me in anyway."

He took another moment.

"When we get you out of here I need to finish looking over these files. Then we can go from there." She could hear the strain in his voice that was meddled with the confusion. Emilie didn't think he was used to be partnering with anyone who wasn't handing him a gun or aiding him and getting to a mark. He had been silent and isolated for so long that dealing with someone like her wasn't exactly easy for him.

Noon the following day, Bucky had managed to slip out of the room for two hours to change clothes and buy a decent cup of coffee at Emilie's insistence that he get out of her room and walk around for a little while. He managed a two block radius window where he took to walking around for about forty five minutes before doubling back to the entrance to pop in and say hello to his 'cousin'.

The nurses had figured that he had left the last night but of course he hadn't. He was polite again, as he thanked them for looking after her before entering her room. She was reading a book that he taken off her nightstand seeing as she seemed to be in the middle of reading it before all hell broke loose.

She closed the book after a few minutes. She was getting ready to tell him something when the sound of glass shattering broke both of their concentration and Bucky was unhooking her from the IV – yanking it out of her hand causing her to scream. He covered her mouth as the sound of feet in the hallway thundered. They sounded like boots.

He had her in his arms quickly. He grabbed her bag and moved towards the window without second thought. Across the way there was a scope in view, and he cursed. The footsteps were getting closer and there was only one way out of this.

Down.

He looked at Emilie who looked a little rattled but rather calm about this whole thing. "Don't let go." He instructed her before he jumped out. They fell all of the ten feet with a slight pause.

Bucky wasn't moving at first. Emilie realized that she could hear his breaths coming in short and close together. He was stuck in a panic, she realized.

Was it the jump or the heights?

She couldn't decipher at first but she acted fast even with his arms basically crushing her against him. "Hey Barnes, you're okay. We made it on the ground without dying. This isn't like before." She remembered that that was how he died, falling from a train. She nearly cursed herself for forgetting that.

He had seemed so sure at first about it (them jumping to the ground like it was nothing), that it had slipped her mind that he was scared of it repeating itself. Forget the fact that he wasn't alone in the fall this time. She wasn't exactly important or necessary but he had pulled her with him to keep her out of harm's way. Just like he had the day before after she had hit her head.

She could feel the increased rhythm of his pulse as she lifted her body up carefully so that she could touch his face. "Barnes," She decided that that's what she felt comfortably calling him. "I'm right here. You need to breathe. In out, in out. You're on the ground and safe and I'm not going to leave you. There's guns and men in uniform and we need to move, do you hear me? We have to move." She wasn't sure if that was still true but that seemed to trigger him to at least open his eyes and look at her. His eyes were so strange now. She hadn't paid too much attention half the time to it because they usually weren't talking or he wasn't facing her completely as she talked at him.

Sometimes she thought she saw death in his eyes but right now she saw the image of a little boy. He was utterly petrified. It lasted for a few long moments before he blinked and looked around. He didn't say anything as he swung her around so that she was hanging on his back almost like an old rag doll. It took her twice as fast to click onto the fact that he was ready now. She didn't know if he was okay really but she was willing to hold on as tight as she can until they got where they needed to be going. He was quiet as he held her legs in place making sure they were secure as she tightened her arms around his neck. Her breath was fanning across his shoulder as she tried to look at his face but he kept his head down as he took a few steps. It lasted until they got to the corner where there was barely anyone.

Then he started running again.

She didn't hear anything but the wind for a little while. He didn't talk and neither did she but he was moving and she supposed that counted for something. They just kept moving and even when she was tired of holding onto him like that she felt a familiar calmness run through her. She had helped him a little and that resonated in a way that she liked.

He stopped when they found a rest stop that was in the lower district of the city. There were a few trucks there but no one paid them much mind as he handed her the bag which she hadn't realized he had even grabbed before their mad dash out the window - and pushed her into the restroom so she could change into actual clothes. She was still in her hospital gown. She stopped, hoping that no one could see too much of her as they were escaping. That made her very conscious and uncomfortable.

Emilie slipped right in and took a brief moment to look at herself in the mirror. She thanked her mom for not giving her the long tresses that she knew that she could have. Her hair was wind swept and a bit frizzy but some water and she'd be able to brush it down enough for it to be presentable.

She got dressed in one of the stalls first. He had packed a few things for her. Shorts, shirts, jeans, shoes varying from flip flops and tennis shoes. Then there were her under garments which were rather plain for a woman her age. She hadn't exactly been trying to impress anyone so she wasn't that annoyed that he had rifled through her selection and picked out some of her favorite pieces.

She decided on a pair of jeans, a grey camisole and her jean jacket would do well. Then she exited the stall to wet her hair and face and make quick work of the brush through her hair. Before joining Bucky again she tossed her hospital gown in the trash not thinking she wanted to carry that around.

When Bucky spotted her coming out, he walked straight over to her. He had moved away from the door over to a small pillar that was by a trash bin and had leant against it as he waited. A man had offered him a smoke and he had thought about it minutely but decided against it. He didn't think he needed anything that could affect his stamina not that with that serum it would.

They began walking again side by side this time taking a round trip to her house. It wasn't until they were safely inside that words were exchange. Bucky being the first one. "Thanks." He muttered.

She didn't asked what, she just smiled before sitting on the sofa for a few minutes. Bucky had gone for her laptop that had been left in her room. She noticed that the table that she had fell into was gone leaving a void in between the space that separated the chair and sofa.

It was then that blurry images flitted through her mind. She pressed her hand against her temple cautiously not because it hurt though there was that, it was hitting her all at once. It started with Jerry talking to her as normal. He hugged her and then the pain that burst through her skull as she fell back. She blinked before deciding that she couldn't sit still right now. She felt shaky and angry and nervous but not because this had happened in her home but because she didn't know why she had been so oblivious that it was at the time that it did.

She joined Bucky at the table by a way of standing near him but far away that she wasn't too close to him. "There's a chair missing." She mumbled.

"It broke." He stated.

It was at that moment that she realize that it had been here that Bucky had done some of the damage to Jerry. She didn't move for a few moments, unsure if she wanted to know or not. She decided it was better if she didn't and took the few steps to the kitchen and then she saw that something else was missing.

"My knives…" Two of them to be exact were missing from their slots on the knife block.

She didn't hear him come up behind her but heard him when he spoke to her, "I took them with me when I disposed of Jerry. They're gone. Sorry." He wasn't apologizing for doing what he did (Killing Jerry) but for the knives. He realized that she liked them. They were special for some reason.

"It's okay." She moved away from him with a slight brush of his shoulder with the movement while bending down under one of the cabinets at the floor level and pulled out another block that had a similar set of knives. "I have another set. Don't go stealing them. I thought you had your own?" She gave him a look that he seemed to get as he let a slight smile slip onto his face.

She set the incomplete set in the cabinet where the other ones were as she swapped them out.

"A matter of convenience." He coughed. Then he turned back around to go back to the laptop.

An hour passed slowly with no new turn of events. Emilie was curious about if she was truly safe here after their drop from out of the hospital room which was supposed to be a safe place. Bucky didn't seem to be on edge about anything. That didn't say much about how he felt about it. He had been concerned about finishing the rest of the information she had found out on him. She didn't tell him how she had come across it, he hadn't asked and she realized that this was something that he needed. Something he wanted more than anything else.

This was one of the signs that she had read on him immediately in the alley. Desperation. It was sometimes stronger than any other motion, and she got it. She had once been desperate too.

He joined her after a little while, sitting down in the chair and leaning forward with his hands linked and holding up his head. He sat there for a few minutes with his eyes closed. "Was that everything?" He asked quietly when he was ready to talk.

"Everything that I had access to. I'm sure there is more but I think that was a lot for anyone to find given the fact that Natasha Romanov had leaked nearly all of it a few days ago. Do you want to find more?"

He waved a hand. "Later. Thank you." Emilie had this weird itch to smile a lot in his company. She knew it wasn't because he was a warm person. He had small moments but it was the inflection in his voice most of the time or the way he reacted to her that made her want to smile not only at him but because of him. She tried to keep a lid on it though. She didn't know if it was doing any good.

There was a small breath of silence before Bucky asked her a question she hadn't really begun to think about. "What are your plans now?"

"Is it safe here?" She felt like she had to ask before she could even begin to answer his question.

"I don't think they want to have to kill an entire street of people just to find one person. They might but I'm prepared to do what I have to."

"Which is what?"

He gave her a look. Did she really want to know the answer to that question? She had danced around the idea of probing for more details about what happened to Jerry. However, now she wanted to know what his plans were. For him, a lot of what he could do weighed on whether if he would be on his own. Emilie wasn't anything special and he knew that but he realized that he could trust her.

"Privet menya a zovut Emili."

This was the first time he could see that she was visibly shocked by him. There was slight confusion there as well and he tried not to smile when she stuttered through a small exclamation of, "What? What was that?"

"That's how you introduce yourself in Russian. Specifically I said 'Hello, my name is Emilie'. You said you wanted me to teach you a little…" He tilted his head to the side as he looked at her.

"Can you say it again?"

He did and he shared a few of the bare minimum of phrases that one should know if they just wanted to know a little. He tried not to get too irritated or laugh at her attempts at mimicking the dialect over dinner which was only tomato soup and toast. It would have been better with grilled cheese but Emilie needed to make a grocery run because she was out of cheese. Bucky didn't mind. It was still just as good.

She managed a nearly full sentence in Russian by the end of the night when they were curled up on the chair and couch.

He could tell that she wasn't sure if she should go to her room tonight. She told him that she wasn't scared of him and had even went out of her way to make sure he didn't die or hurt himself when he went into a panic when they hit the ground earlier, but she didn't know what was out there. What could come inside when she was sleeping and too far away from the trained assassin who decided on staying for at least another couple of days.

She was safe in here with him. Emilie knew that.

Before she fell asleep for the night she answered his question. The one that she hadn't answered yet. "I'll take a few weeks off from work. They'll expect me to be grieving the loss of my friend. Two weeks is enough time for that." Then she turned away from his lingering eyes and fished around for the sleep that she so desperately needed even still.

Bucky stayed up thinking about what had happened since coming into the company of Emilie Timothy. He had grabbed her first and she had willing helped him without any scare tactics or threats being thrown about. He hadn't even done any late night recon on her, not as much as he would anyone else. It had just been an in the moment decision and he thought about that now with everything that he had learned about her. Things that she discussed with him and things he had saw on her when she was avoiding his gaze or pretending that he wasn't there. She wasn't afraid of him or his arm – it could be used against her but because of the situation a few years ago she wasn't batting a lash at it. The fact that she was able to throw a knife and it have a possibility of hitting him if he wasn't who he was was also something to think about.

It made him think that perhaps he didn't have to protect her. He already knew that she knew how to kill a man but he could teach her a little more for when he wasn't there. He would leave sooner rather than later but there was something about lingering for a little bit longer and having the time to really decide what he wanted to do next that made him stay put for now.

He couldn't go back to HYDRA. That was never going to be an option. He hadn't thought too much about going to SHIELD or what was left of it after the fall of the Triskelion and the supposed death of the director both interim and Nick Fury. He hadn't been able to read much on that. Emilie had been targeting matters that focused on him specifically and had to figure that he had known that the man was still dead. This also had him thinking about the man in the blue and red uniform.

Steve Rogers.

Captain America as he was called.

He didn't know what he was going to do about him. He had failed to kill him as he was ordered to. Then there was the idea that they had been best friends from a young age. He could remember bits and pieces of it. Steve had been puny in the memories that were slipping through the void of darkness. How had he become this version?

The data told him that he had been shot up with the Super Soldier serum before he was.

He paused as he thought about this. He wasn't around when Steve was injected with it. So where had he been?

There were a lot of holes. It frustrated him.

He ran his hands roughly through his hair before standing up and walking the perimeter of the room. He was pacing and he didn't like that. There was nothing that he could do about this. Sleep wouldn't help. Waking Emilie wouldn't either, though he would prefer if he didn't have to suffer in silence like this. It was maddening.

Emilie was fairly smart as far as he could tell. She had known what to do when he was frozen like stone in his boots. She managed to try to talk her way out of having to deal with someone who didn't have her best interest in heart not that she had been exactly aware at the time. He still gave her points for that.

And now, he was sure she'd be able to help.

-x-

"Why not just find Steve?" She said.

Maybe he was wrong. He wasn't putting too much belief in her. She wasn't extraordinary as she told him before. She was ordinary. She had a boring job which she had taken two weeks off to aid him in ways that it was clear that she had no idea about.

He just stared at her as she ate a breakfast burrito that she had went to get from a vendor a couple blocks away. She planned to go to the market and get food later and even asked if he liked to join so he wouldn't have to stay here and do more waiting. He was thinking about it. He would have to make sure his arm was covered with something.

She had bought him one of those large burritos as well but he wasn't all that hungry. Not true really. He just wasn't as hungry as he felt was needed in order for him to consume something so large. "I'll save it for you for later if you want it." She mumbled as she finished hers and put his in the refrigerator.

He caught a whiff of something when she turned away, stopping him as he turned to go and wait for her by the door. They were going to try to beat the crowd. On a weekend people shopped apparently. It wasn't something he ever did while out on missions.

It was a sweet scent, vanilla and sugar. She hadn't handled that today so she sprayed something on. Wasn't something he remembered on any girl he took out back in the 40s. He remembered dating quite a few people. No names but the women were beautiful and eager to be at his side.

It was an interesting contrast to how they cowered from him now. Emilie didn't cower. She was an odd kind of breed. He wasn't fond of the fact that he kept comparing her to someone or something that he knew of from his past. It was only because she was the only one around to hold his attention.

"I was joking about finding Steve. I think he'd be trying to lay low after getting pummeled by you." She smiled at him. A smirk surfaced on his face just before she tossed something at him. "They should fit. Sorry, I don't have anything more manly." She giggled.

Bucky looked at the fabric as it fell off his face into his hands. One single glove that was black of course. He was already sporting a pair of jeans and a navy blue button up with short sleeves. What he held was something that had to come from Emilie's own collection. He looked at it with a look of distain for half a second before slipping it on anyway. "Thanks." He grunted, and gave her a very annoyed look. It was long enough and fit but they would have to find something for him later.

"Sure." She mumbled as she pulled the door open and stepped outside with him following behind her. She locked the door before they began their journey along the sidewalk. "It isn't that far away. Rather close to the little place I got our-my breakfast from." She paused watching as he stowed his gloved hand in the pockets of his jeans. "Anyway, I think it would be good to eventually seek out Cpt. Rogers. He has to know more about you than anyone these days. I certainly only know very little. I didn't read much as I was Googling – that's a search engine that is used to look up anything you need to know about anything."

Emilie was aware there were a lot of things that he didn't know of due to his memory wipes and the time allotted for him to do what he had to do with HYDRA and for them. "It's certainly better than BING, also a search engine but I prefer the wonders of Google. Sometimes it makes me laugh though." She coughed, realizing she was getting off topic. "You're from New York, I'm from Pittsburg actually but I moved to D.C. when I decided to go to college. I don't really think it's necessary to have a degree to be a temp but that's not what I got my major in."

"What did you want to do then?"

She was surprised that he was actually wanting to know. She supposed since she had shared something rather heavy with him just a night or two ago that that might help but she couldn't have known if he really wanted to know anything else about her. "Teach actually, little children and I was offered something just before the Luke thing happened but it was as if it no longer existed after you're painted as a killer. Unfair, I guess but maybe I'll try again someday." She shrugged as they turned their third corner. "Here we are."

The market was a small vendor's district where there was enough natural product to feed a few small armies. That's one of the reasons she liked it. There was something about the people too that made her happy. She picked things up as she went asking Bucky at times if he had ever had any of these. Most of the time he wouldn't answer but he stuck close to her and watched the people as they weaved through it. Bucky had eventually taken the bags from Emilie as she searched for her wallet to give the money to the man who was in charge. Usually you paid people individually for their goods but this market was different. It would all be given to them eventually, she knew. Plus she tipped when she could.

Today, she just wanted to get in and out though she did talk to a few people as they called her name surprising Bucky as he turned this way as she guided him by arm over to them. She would introduce them and Bucky would be pleasant for Emilie's sake knowing this was a part of her life even if this would be the only time that he would see these faces. It was refreshing. He had never been introduced to so many people at once and for them to smile at him with true glee of meeting his acquaintance. It was shocking.

So, he asked her on their way back home with a malt shake as a treat (her words, not his) on their way back to her house.

This was familiar.

"Are they always that nice?"

"I'm a regular." She commented as she took a sip of her malt.

"Doesn't mean they have to be so pleasant?"

"You don't like it?" She gestured to his shake.

Bucky hadn't even realized he hadn't taken a sip of it yet. He did then as she watched and then he just stopped mid-step causing her to take a few steps back so that she could stay with him.

It wasn't a normal type of halt. He just stopped, the drink falling to the ground as he seemed to be locked in something only he could see. Emilie decided that perhaps she didn't need to touch him. Let whatever it was that he was experiencing ride out on his own.

It took a few long short minutes but when he did he touched his head.

"What was it?" She asked as he apologized for dropping the drink that she had bought for him even though he didn't asked for it. She was constantly doing something like that for him. He realized that first she didn't get opportunities like this and second she wanted to. Like those people he met, she genuinely had a kind heart it was just rotten with the pain of what had happened to her. She didn't give up though.

"They remind me of the ice cream my mother used to make. Tastes almost the same. I remember her more than I do Steve." He confesses quietly as he tightens his hold on the bag that he's holding for her.

"Your mother was very important to you."

"He was too, apparently."

She nodded. "I understand. I never had that though, you know. A friend that I would do anything for."

He's silent as they walk the rest of the way. Is that who he is to Steve Rogers? Someone worth sacrificing your own life for? Is that why he let his shield drop so quickly when they were alone on the helcarrier.

"_I'm not going to fight you."_

Why he let him hurt him so much that he had to drag him out of the water? Something ached in his chest just thinking of that moment. There was a reason why he saved him. He just wasn't sure what it was yet. He only knew Steve couldn't die, he couldn't do it. He couldn't be the one to kill him. There had been something holding him from completing his mission. He knew him. Emilie was right.

He's the piece that's missing.

/

Its three days into his stay with Emilie and a small routine has started. They have breakfast where he sometimes partakes in actually eating. He eats most at dinner. Emilie says it's him working up to eating what he hasn't all day. She goes out to run before dinner which he doesn't get since she'll just be eating the burnt off calories.

"I don't do it to stay in shape." She tells him when he tells her that. She also shoots him a look which makes him believe that there was something bad about what he said and the way he said it. His tone almost never changed, it stayed neutral and never swayed by the words that slipped off his tongue. "It's fun for me."

"You often come in out of breath. How is that considered fun?"

She sighs. She doesn't know if this is how he gets his amusement by mocking her or if he really doesn't understand people that much. She wonders how different he would be if he still retained his persona of Bucky and not this other thing that he is. "Barnes," She calls as she runs hands through her hair and trying very hard not to glare at him. "I push myself a little hard on the last mile that doesn't mean it wasn't fun."

"Why do you call me that?" He finally asked her. He knew that it was a part of his name but why didn't she just call him James or Bucky. Why go for his last name out of all the parts. It was just odd.

Emilie rolls her eyes at him before answering. She's honestly surprised he hasn't asked her this before. Then again he isn't much for talking if it something that involves him. He keeps it all locked away for another time when he has something he think will benefit him more. That's when they have deep discussions about what can be done or if it's something that can't be controlled.

"Well, Bucky I feel it's Steve's nickname for you so it makes me uncomfortable to even think about calling you that. James – your first name is too damn formal so I just can't do it. I'd call you Jim or Jimmy but knowing you you would probably want to punch me in the face if I even tried. Besides it doesn't suit you."

"Barnes does?" His eyes are wide showcasing how bewildered he is by this but she can tell that he wants to get to the bottom of this.

"For me, I guess it does. In the military it's what you would be referred as. No one would be itching to call you Bucky if they weren't Steve. Barnes is a mouthful and strange and I like it. Just deal with it okay."

He realized that one of the things that he liked about Emilie Timothy was that sometimes she said things that no one else would say to him. She wouldn't backtrack to conserve his feelings. This subject wasn't something that could hurt him exactly but he realized that it was something that he could link to hurt. He didn't like talking about Steve but it was something that was necessary. Emilie knew that better than he did. It was the same reason why at times she would start sharing a small piece of what happened when she was with Luke.

Luke and Steve were nowhere near the same person but the fact that had both had to urge to kill them for reasons that were wrong tugged at something inside him. Emilie killed Luke because he was going to kill her and she was afraid. Bucky would have killed Steve if he hadn't slipped through his hands and given him a reason not to. The reason that he was still toying with. Little pieces coming to his head to make the guilt and anger he felt about it less prominent.

His nightmares were delayed much longer than they were supposed to be. He didn't understand that it was happening until he felt something soft brushing hair from his brow and he had grabbed them and tossed them under him choking them in the process. It took him a good short minutes first realize that the eyes were not of any enemy he had seen before and the solid hand that was grasping at his shirt was weak and feminine and posed no danger to him. He let her go before rolling off onto the floor beside the sofa.

Emilie didn't leave him to rot in his misery. He was processing what he felt and what he experienced subconsciously when he felt her hand in his hair again and she had angled her body so that she could talk to him quietly even though there was no one else there beside the two of them.

"So, that's what that arm can do?" She was trying to joke with him but he wasn't in the mood. If he had squeezed any tighter or held on for any longer he would have killed her. It didn't sit well with him.

It wasn't because he cared about her. He didn't fully understand her enough to say that he felt any certain way about her, but this wasn't something he felt was welcomed.

"Sorry…" He choked keeping his eyes trained on his hands. The metal one more so than the flesh. It had been an automatic reaction to someone touching him and what was happening while he slept. The anger boiling along with the gesture that he wasn't sure was real. He just snapped.

"You don't react to touch well." She continued, drawing back her hand. He could feel her legs as they swung beside his right side so that they were touching the floor. He couldn't see her but he could feel the movements in his back as she shifted on the couch. A small groan leaving her lips as she stretched and then she was standing up.

He had woken her up. She had taken to going back to bed in her room two days ago – four days since the incident. Nearly a week had passed since he had to escape from the hospital and it was quiet. It shouldn't have been this quiet. He didn't like it.

"Something's wrong." She told him. "Not with me, with you. You seem off balance. Not that I know you." She added as she ruffled his hair again causing him to look up at her. She moved away and towards the kitchen. She was still talking as she did, making her voice louder just in case he didn't want to come in the kitchen with her.

"I've been thinking about hunting down Steve but - oh shit." She stopped suddenly and that was what seemed to truly wake him up and he was standing across from her on the opposite side of the island.

"What?" He sounded on edge and he knew that. She had already said she thought there was something wrong with him already. It was different though. She had caused him to go into a panic, worrying that something had happened but she was looking at a calendar.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it." She turned to him smiling a little when she saw the expression on his face. He looked worried for her, but it dropped.

"Tell me." He commanded and she just rolled her eyes at him.

"I forgot about this family thing that's supposed to happen on Monday. They're supposed to be coming over and I'm going to cook and stuff." She rubbed the back of neck for a moment and he zoned on her neck seeing that it was already starting to bruise. She was fragile.

He blinked, backtracking to what she said. "Besides your brother, I didn't know you had any family."

"How did you know about my brother?"

He just stared at her. She isn't his mark but he had to find something out about her.

"You went into my room. God, do you know what an invasion of privacy is?"

"First, you have nothing on the walls of your house and I had to get you some clothes when you were in the hospital. Remember that. Right. I like knowing about the people I'm interacting with."

"I don't suppose you did that with the HYDRA people too?"

"Didn't really have a chance." He growled.

She sighed. "Okay. Calm down." She opened the fridge. They still had plenty food in there from the two runs to the market and Walmart that happened earlier on in the week. "I don't know if you'd like to be there with all that happening so you could make yourself disappear for the day if you want."

Emilie wasn't fond of the idea of Bucky being elsewhere. She didn't like the idea of him being stuck in her room, either. It was like being trapped in a cage. He was stuck in a metaphorical and physical cage for a long time. She didn't see what good it would do to suggest that. So, she gave him the better option.

He didn't really say anything about for hours. They had an early breakfast that featured pancakes and sausage. She had retired to her room for two hours to shower and work on a checklist of things that she needed to get when she went out. Then she came out to him doing pushups, shirtless in the place where the coffee table was. He moved it.

She was distracted. Really distracted for the two minutes it took for him to realize that she was watching him. He didn't stop moving but he spoke in grunts as he did about five more push-ups. "If I say I want to stay for the family thing on Monday?"

"Wait, why would you want to even be here for that?"

"Answer the question, Emi." This was the second time he had called her that and she shook away the immobilization that struck her when she heard it again coming from his mouth.

"I have to get you some clothes. It would be weird for you to turn up in my brother's clothes." She sighed turning away from him and heading for the door. "Move the coffee table back when you're done." She told him before she exited the door.

Bucky sat up on the floor to cool down about fifteen minutes after she left. He knew that it bothered her now, the idea that he wanted to sit in on her family's gathering. There was something strange about her family dynamic with them. She didn't talk about her brother and there were no mention of parents but perhaps some aunts and cousins were going to attend.

He knew why she gave him the option to leave the house for the day. She wanted to continue on a rouse that was already set. His being there would create chaos. This was one thing she should have known about him even if she didn't know him. Not in the way she thought she thought. He – The Winter Soldier enjoyed chaos, but that was not who wanted to be here. It was him; every part of him that wanted to learn more about this woman who kept more secrets than anyone he had ever known.

He remembered the women who Bucky admired. The ones he spent time with willingly. The girl who went with him to expo was sweet. Her friend had eyes for him too. Then there was Peggy. Steve's Peggy, he reminded himself. Where was she now? He was almost curious enough to leave the house to search for information. It wasn't in his data. He wanted to know more about that one. She had red lips and a flare that was unlike any of the others. He remembered watching Steve's face when she was in the room with him. She had been off limits and he understood why. Not at first, but it was because she had eyes for Steve. Not the tall buffed version of him that he had come to know later when he tried to kill him but the part of him that was still genuinely the kid from Brooklyn who got into fights that he would intercede and pull him out of.

He had a heart that wasn't like any of the ruthless mercenaries that he had fought with in the war. The war that he had dreamt of that night. The torture that several of his platoon including himself had experienced.

He remembered the light in the pain and the darkness. That was Steve. He had come for him and he dragged him away and back to camp where Peggy was waiting for them both.

He closed his eyes and let all that soak in the dark patches that clouded his mind. It was slowly coming together. He had only gotten glimpses before. Nothing had ever been shown so full on and clear.

Emilie was bright. She tried to help when he had been howling in pain and twisting in the throes of what he had experienced for the second time, anew. He was trying to find a way to repay her for her decision to go along with him for so long now.

It had only been a little over a week since he had met her. This was something that he couldn't grasp. _Time_. It was so fleeting and hard to center. He hadn't had a use for tracking it, but it was one of the only things he could think about when he really factored in how many years had gone by between the events that he was seeing. It hadn't been too hard when he latched onto what he was wearing at a certain point in the memory.

The loss was heartbreaking. His hands found his hair and tug at it hard as if that would help make it stuff. He breathed out in rough little huffs. He stopped about three minutes shy of completely tearing out his hair and began looking at his hands. He was shaking. This was the part of him that he was afraid of.

He was losing control. It wasn't right. This is what they had done to him, what they made him into. He was feeble and weak but he held strength in one arm that was enough to kill anyone who stood in his way. He hated it. He hated this too.

This is why he hadn't left yet. He needed someone to focus him enough to not completely breakdown when the time was right.

He needed Emilie to smack some sense into him. She had in her own way. She'd given him enough curiosity to sate him for days. She probably would be more confused by this than he currently was. He didn't need to be attached to anyone, but at the same time he wouldn't mind it. He hadn't been attached to anyone in a long time. Not since before the war. He had seen women and had them touch him in ways that made sense but he knew that was different.

She was wrong about the fact that she thought he didn't like to be touched. She had taken him off guard the first time. He had been asleep and unaware and he grappled at her throat as if she was the one who was hurting him but she wasn't. She wasn't hurting evil. Tormented? Yes, a bit like him except she had all her memories intact.

She was also gentle. She hadn't picked him up off the floor and commanded him to do anything. She had even went so far to try to soothe him again for a few seconds before moving away. She thought that was what he wanted. What he needed.

To be fair, he didn't exactly say anything to her that made it seem like he wasn't completely disgusted by her soft fingers sifting through his hair. He was so still, like a rock.

He can admit now that he isn't sure that this move to meet her family isn't completely reckless or wrong. Something tells him that he should want to. In his gut, the same place that made him stay close when Jerry was in the house. It was a different feeling, though. He felt like this would be something beneficial to Emilie.

He couldn't figure out why. He wasn't good right now but he planned to make it work for that day. He knew how to act decent enough in public settings. The hospital was a good example. Also the market.

Bucky decided to head to the shower, he needed a clean rinse after working out and the buildup of panic and frustrated needed to be tossed away for the time being. By the time Emilie had turned back up two short hours later he was dressed in one of the short sleeved button ups that she had loaned him. His hair was pushed back from his face using a little water and he felt clean.

Emilie herself looked a bit annoyed, but not with him. She passed him a large bag of clothing. "I don't know what you wanted to wear so I picked up a few things. It's weird that you almost fit my brother's clothes so I didn't ask you to tag along. I kind of eyeballed your measurements. Anyway, you have clothes of your own now. So. You're welcome." She ended with a halfhearted smile before side stepping to head to the kitchen with the rest of the stuff.

Bucky placed the bag she gave him on the chair without looking at what she had gotten. He moved into the kitchen and leaned against the wall, silently watching her unpack all the food that she had bought and stowing it away in the cabinets and the fridge. She had even bought new dishes. She left those on the counter as she stopped for a moment. She pulled a notepad out of her back pocket and began ticking off things on the list.

She was turned away from Bucky for a good five minutes. She jumped a little when she realized he had been standing there for a while. "Is there with a problem with your clothes?"

"I didn't look at them." He says quietly.

"Oh."

"Did something happen while you were out?"

"Um…" She thought on it for a moment. "Kind of." She began chewing on her pen cap as she looked back at the page. Forgetting he was there again until he cleared his throat. "Oh, you want to know what happened." She stated. He didn't nod or anything just kept staring at her. He was always staring. She wasn't as uncomfortable with it anymore.

"I ran into Steve."

She expected some loud outburst from him. Some sort of reaction to her interacting with the man who was both his best friend and source of confusion (and anger and yet more confusion). Instead she was the one reacting to him coming at her quickly and incasing her in his hold. His arms were on her shoulders and he was guiding her out of the kitchen to sit down on the couch again.

He had taken the notebook out of her hand, and placed it on the coffee table leaving Emilie jittery and confused. This was different and highly unexpected.

He didn't say a work for in a few minutes but she noticed how rattled he seemed now. His legs were practically bouncing as he sat next to her. This was something new, also that she wouldn't ask about. It was important that he was choosing to sit so close to her.

"Did you talk to him?"

"I tried…" She decided to start with that, seeing as she didn't know how he was feeling about Steve today. It was odd to think that he might have changed his mind since this morning.

"Okay."

"I had to run after him a little to get his attention. I suppose starting off with 'I've been living with your best friend who also tried to kill you' was the first thing I should have said but I started with "Steve!", her voice was loud causing Bucky to flinch a little but he understood why she did that. She was trying to give it back to him piece by piece. "He looked and was confused and then started walking so I had to jog a bit to catch up with him. This was before I went into the clothes store. He was alone but he looked good. Anyways," She spoke trying to get to the point before she lost his focus. "I said that I knew where you were and I kind of said your name a few hundred times before he seemed to actually pay any attention to what I was saying. I didn't give him an exact place seeing as D.C. is huge but I told him that you were safe and wasn't ready to see him yet. He looked crestfallen at this information but he seemed happy that you hadn't fell off the radar or gotten yourself into more trouble but I didn't mention any of the things that involved falling out of a hospital room or you killing a man for me. I didn't think it was the right moment. So I have his number for when you're ready."

Emilie stared at Bucky, unsure of what was going to happen. It wasn't like she had been prepared to practically run after another Super Soldier so that the other one with the metal arm would have an opportunity to fix what had been shattered once. She had been focused on getting the things that he needed for Monday, and the things that she needed. She could say that her nightly runs did come in handy though. Steve was still lighter on his feet than she had even been.

Bucky turned to Emilie again. He knew she was waiting for him to say anything before they could move on past this point. He wasn't exactly sure if he was ready or if he ever would be ready to face Steve. From what he had collected of their years together – he hadn't gotten all of the pieces yet, he knew that Steve was a large important part of his life. He would have to be ready at some point soon or there would be no real progress to happen. He couldn't stay here with Emilie. He couldn't put her in this hole for much longer. When her second week was up she would have to go back to her life and he knew he had to let her, without intercede or causing any more mayhem driven by his past or his future.

He did feel like he would like to keep in touch with her. He liked her. He was starting to really hone on to that idea more.

"Thanks for talking with him for me since I wasn't there. I don't know what I would have done. The idea of seeing him again after what I did to him isn't something I'm prepared for physically or mentally."

"Why not physically?" She thought that was a strange thing for him to say. She could understand why he couldn't mentally be ready. There was so many gaps that he hadn't found the pieces for. He hadn't told her everything but she knew enough to know that the largest pieces that he needed were where Steve Rogers was concerned. She got why that was something that seemed foreboding to him. There was such a dark disconnecting factor for Bucky when it came to who he thought Steve was, and who he was supposed to be for him.

"He broke my arm."

"You've had a broken arm this entire time?" She was looking at him with so much bewilderment that it made him laugh. It was such a light laugh that it took her off guard.

"Yes." He muttered, when he finally came down from his giggles over her.

"Which one?" Her eyes slipping over to his arms that were out for her to see. His fingers tightened as she tried to figure out which one could have possibly be injured.

He lifted his metal arm. "You can still use it though? Take this morning for instance?"

"I knew you wouldn't be able to do anything about it. You're not particularly bright when it comes to technology. This is beyond me or you, Emi."

She licked her lips. "I know someone who could fix it."

Bucky's eye brow rose in curiosity.

"He might be hard to track down, and he's a kid which makes it more troubling. Maybe Steve knows someone better but that would have to wait until after you two hash it out in your weird Bucky and Steve way."

"You called me Bucky." There was a smile somewhere in his eyes.

"It fit for the circumstances. You're still Barnes to me."

His mouth twitched a little. He really didn't mind her aversion for the nickname. He found it strangely sweet that she wanted to keep him separate from that as long as she could. He protected her out of instinct, and she protected him from what she knew he was still trying to be alright with. It was an interesting dynamic.

"It can wait." He finally told her. "I think I'll be out of your hair by Wednesday."

"Why Wednesday?"

He shrugged.

"I want to meet your family." He added after a beat.

"Why?" She asked again, looking a little pained.

"It's useful to me."

"You're weird, Barnes." She said before getting up to go back to the kitchen, muttering something about figuring out something for a later lunch.

Bucky waited until he couldn't see her to put his face in his hands.

The Steve resolution was happening fast. He hadn't expected any of this to happen so fast. He hadn't even known who he was until he was assigned this mission and now he was all he could think about when he let himself think about anything that circled around his past. When he wasn't thinking about Steve, he was thinking about his mother and sister. He didn't remember much about his sister other than the fact that she was always there when he was home. She was the one who encouraged him to be a hero in the war even though that hadn't exactly been the reason why he enlisted. He remembered the shaky feelings he had when he went for the medical exam and the tears of fear from his mom when she realized that he would be leaving her to fight in a war that took his father away.

He sighed, looking towards the kitchen. He wondered what happened to her parents. They died, he knew that much but she still hadn't shared any of that. He wanted to know if it was something like how his family was. Was it normal to feel sad when you thought of the dad that you only remember from when you were a kid, and the mom who only existed to you before you "died" during the war? Was he truly that strange?


End file.
